Miss Doe
by Lord Cellytron
Summary: Karone is a discontented twentysomething who has stopped her wandering and, in the hopes of settling down with a career, has returned to earth, only to find that her past may have closed more doors than she thought. Contains mature themes and drug use.
1. Overqualified

**DISCLAIMER: Power Rangers, Power Rangers in Space and Power Rangers Wild Force are property of Saban and Disney. Not me.**

**This is post-PRiS, taking place in 2007. Karone is no longer a Power Ranger, and has returned to earth. She has now found herself living life according to the daily grind, and her glamorous memories of saving the galaxy are but a distant memory. **

She kept her eyes focused straight ahead, hands demurely folded in her lap, feet even with one another as if they were aligned with an invisible ruler, knees together, head held high.

She was staring at a poster of Donald Duck on a skateboard, the words "Q.U.A.C.K For Childhood Fitness!" printed at the bottom in bright orange type. The meaning of acronym "Q.U.A.C.K" was printed in smaller text, but she wasn't able to make it out from where she was.

Behind her, the door to the administrator's office was slightly ajar, and the unmistakable sounds of an elementary school lunch hour floated in through the crack. It was impossible to make out most of the content of the shouts and squeals; boys boasting of childish accomplishments, girls gabbing about whatever young girls gabbed about these days, the occasional high-pitched laugh, the slightly more frequent angry protest of "NUH-UH!".

It was utter chaos, to be sure. But Karone loved it.

She looked away from the Donald Duck poster and regarded with nervous interest the woman sitting across the desk from her. She had Karone's resume in hand, and was jotting down notes to put in the applicant's file.

What this woman, Principal Renee Marshall, thought of Karone's resume was anybody's guess. Her facial expression was stony and unchanging as she scanned the 9 pt, double spaced Helvetica text that tried valiently to compress Karone's entire life, all nine years of it, after leaving the United Alliance of Evil, into one page.

"What have I got to worry about?" Karone suddenly thought to herself. She became acutely aware of an itch on the left side of her nose, and she resolved to ignore it. "My... my resume speaks for itself. I'm highly qualified for this position. Who would be more qualified than me?"

All at once, Principal Marshall set her pen down. Karone noticed with a hint of apprehension that, instead of simply lying the pen down and leaving it at that, Marshall made a point of lining the pen up on top of the resume, perfectly aligning the pen between the fifteenth and sixteenth lines of text.

The itch was becoming bothersome, and Karone took in a sharp breath. She hadn't seen Marshall do so much as touch her own face in the twenty seven minutes that Karone had been sitting in her office, and the three boxes of moist towelettes, the two different kinds of hand sanitizer and the can of Lysol spray sitting right out on the desk made it abundantly clear that hygiene and sanitation was very important with this person. Karone hardly intended to have her chances at employment blown just because of an itchy nose.

"Well, Miss Doe," Marshall said, her deep, smooth voice passing over Karone's legal last name as if it were of grave unimportance, but etiquette dictated that she address her applicant by name, "If I may make an observation?"

She stopped and peered at Karone sharply. She was asking permission to make an observation. Clearly a test.

"What? Um, yes. Go ahead," Karone said nervously.

No, that wasn't right. Karone knew that wasn't right. Her primary objective at this stage of the application process was to prove how submissive she could be. "Go ahead" is a phrase that implies dominance. A command. Even if spoken so as to sound friendly and personable, the fact remained that "Go ahead" was not what Marshall had intended to hear.

She made this clear with an arched eyebrow, and without knowing she was doing it, Karone lifted a finger to her lips and began chewing on the nail, her heart pounding in her ears.

"Among other things, you're vastly overqualified," Marshall stated simply.

Karone's eyes widened.

"Oh, do you think so?" she asked.

Marshall's lips pursed.

"Surely you've read this resume," she said.

Karone looked at the resume and then met Marshall's eyes again.

"I wrote it," she said dumbly.

"I've no doubt. Miss Doe, if I may," she turned around in her chair and opened the drawer of a file cabinet.

Karone took advantage of this moment of privacy and scratched her nose vigorously. She rubbed her eyes and self-consciously smoothed her hair back. The front pieces hadn't come loose from the chignon that had taken her all morning, and she thanked the fates for that little bit of serendipity, anyway.

Her hair was moderately damaged, and a rather unfortunate shade of brassy blonde as a result of a hasty double-processing session which had taken place the night before. She had spent the last six months with pink hair, and it was only the day before that her friend, Cassie, had come to visit and wish her well and gotten a look at the pink. After rambling incoherently for ten minutes about professionalism, Cassie had forced Karone onto a bus and they'd returned home with color stripper and two boxes of Number 03 "Classic Platinum" drugstore hair color.

The results had been less than optimal, but she could pass for a blonde again.

Marshall turned back around, and Karone's hands went back to her lap. Marshall had a thick, red folder in her hands, which she slid across the desk with one hand. She made certain that the bottom edge of the folder lined up perfectly with the bottom edge of the desk, and Karone looked at the folder.

"William L. Donovan Elementary Magnet School" read the folder, in stark gold type.

"This is yours to keep," Marshall said. "It explains our school policies. There are a good deal of them. There is also a complimentary magnet and coupon book."

"Thank you," Karone said.

"Miss Doe, if I may be frank, I'm not certain this is the place for someone like you."

Karone frowned.

"Uh, okay, may I... ask why?"

"This is an elementary school, Miss Doe. And, if I may be frank--"

"For god's sake, why does she keep asking if she 'may'?!" Karone thought irritably. "Who's going to say no to her?!"

"Your illustrious past, publicized and immortalized as it may be, gives me very little indication that you belong around children."

Just like that.

Karone let out a sharp breath and closed her eyes.

"Mrs. Marshall-" she began, trying to keep her voice from cracking.

"Doctor Marshall," Marshall corrected.

"I'm sorry, Doctor," Karone sighed. "As you undoubtedly read, I headed up a daycare center on the planet Mirinoi for two and a half years. I've been 'around children' a good deal in my life."

"I have no doubt," Marshall said again. "I have, however, had a chance to call in your references, and your second reference, a Mister Chen, informed me that this daycare center is no longer operating, and in fact, has not operated since significantly before your departure from Mirinoi in 2002."

Karone sighed again.

"It had to be shut down on the Northern continent and relocated."

"Relocated, along with the majority of the population, according to Mr. Chen."

"Yes," Karone said angrily. "We were invaded."

"You understand, then, Miss Doe," Marshall said soberly, "That Mr. Chen gave me the specifics of the incident in which the young boy was killed."

Karone suddenly felt an overpowering desire to run from the room. She felt a brief flash of rage at both Kai, for telling Marshall about it, and herself for choosing Kai as a reference.

It faded a moment later. Of course Kai had told Marshall about it. Karone had told him herself not to leave anything out, as she'd spent long enough running from her past. She was sure Kai had made a veritable production out of his retelling of Karone's accomplishments at the daycare center, but they'd both known that the knowledge that someone died under her watch was far from a selling point, no matter how many rocks the children had happily painted.

"Yes, I understand," Karone replied.

"Mr. Chen made it perfectly clear to me, of course, that the rest of the children would have been killed had it not been for you. He spoke of your quick thinking and bravery, and he explained that the child died of complications. You understand, though, that he also informed me that you were a specific target."

"Yes. The creatures who attacked the daycare were after me."

"Had you anticipated this kind of attack?"

Karone glared at Marshall.

"Doctor Marshall, I made many enemies during my youth. All over the galaxy, there are creatures who I've wronged and who haven't forgotten that. But, I thought-- we all thought we were safe on Mirinoi."

"Do you 'think you're safe' on Earth?"

Karone shook her head slowly, looking at the ceiling.

"I'm afraid I didn't realize I was going to be put on trial, Doctor Marshall. If I had known, I would have prepared myself a little better."

Marshall folded her hands.

"Miss Doe, you can understand my position." It was a statement, not a question. "These are very dangerous and uncertain times. The Earth is hardly free from monster attacks of its own. I understand and respect that we owe our lives to the Power Rangers of Earth and countless other planets. I understand you were once part of that group, and perhaps if you could use your influence to assure both your own personal safety and the continuous safety of my school, I'd consider hiring you. Even with all that I've learned about you, I'd consider it. But as it is now, I simply can not endanger my students and staff in such a way."

"I understand," Karone muttered. She stood up and turned her back to Marshall.

"Miss Doe, you do have my sympathy. I'm certain I'm not the first person who has turned you down due to your past. It's terribly unfortunate to live in such times as these. And don't misunderstand. I respect you immensely. The fact that you have risen above your situation and done so many wonderful things is incredible. I would be honored to have you on my staff, if not for the risk it would pose."

"Yes," Karone sighed.

"I actually once hired a young man as a janitor, who had been in prison for six months. He was a very fine boy, but was forced to leave when his old friends decided to look him up at work. It was actually quite a scandal, no doubt you heard about it on the news."

"I don't think so."

"Oh, I'm sure you did. You understand my position. I wish you the best of luck, Miss Doe."

"Thank you for your time, Doctor," Karone said, making a weak attempt at a smile.

She shut the door behind her and sighed shakily.

Rejected unanimously at four different places. Four of them now.

Just like that.

The students' lunch hour was just ending, and she stepped out into a torrent of eager children on their way out to the playground for their twenty minutes of recess. A woman's voice momentarily rose above the chaotic shouts, and Karone was able to make out a stern "Single file!" before a young girl ran past screaming about Bratz dolls.

Karone stood back, out of the way of the crowd of children, and she smiled sadly as they passed her. Some friendlier kids yelled innocent "Hi!"s at her, and she waved at them.

The woman was approaching Karone now, yelling "Line up at the door single file, you guys! Wait until I get there! Anyone who goes outside before I get to the door has to sit out!"

The crowd had accumulated in front of the double doors, and only a pair of young boys remained behind. They were each carrying a handful of trading cards, and they were too absorbed in the fundamentals of their game to be in a rush to get to the playground.

"Jumperia does 14 damage! Give me your flare card," one of the boys cried victoriously.

"You stupid, you can't do math. Five and six isn't fourteen," the other boy replied. The teacher was walking beside them, and he looked up at her. "Is it, Miss Enrile?"

Miss Enrile smiled and put her hand on the other boy's shoulder. "Don't call people stupid, Jackson, it isn't nice. And, Mikey, don't you remember how I showed you how to do plus and minus in your head? The apples and the pears?"

Mikey sighed.

"Aw, math is stupid. I'm going to be the captain of a pirate ship, anyway. I don't need to know math."

"Oh, yeah? Well, then how are you going to count your booty, Blackbeard?" Miss Enrile asked. "Those treasure chests are full of coins."

"I'll get my first mate to do it. And he better, too! Or else I'll cut off his OTHER leg!"

Mikey suddenly began jumping around with an imaginary sword, shouting "Yarr!"

"Your first mate is going to cheat you," Jackson scoffed. "You only did eleven damage, and I have twelve HP left."

"Huh?" Mikey asked, an expression of great tragedy on his face. "That was my last attack card."

"So you lose again. Like that's anything new," Jackson drew out three brightly colored cards. "Two Necro cards and an overdrive for the next game."

"What?! You can't do that! That's MY overdrive card!"

"You dropped it on the floor. I picked it up. Those are the rules."

"Come on, you guys," Miss Enrile said. "Put the cards away, we're going to play dodgeball."

"Pirate captains don't play dodgeball, Miss Enrile."

Karone had been watching the whole thing with a smile, and she suddenly spoke up.

"Sure they do. When the bad guys shoot cannonballs, you don't want to be standing under one of them."

Miss Enrile looked at Karone and nodded.

"Exactly. Come on, Mikey, you want to be captain? You can be the captain of the dodgeball team."

Mikey looked up at her, his eyes wide with awe.

"I get to be the captain?" he whispered. "I never get to be the captain."

"There's a reason for that," Jackson muttered.

"Jackson, Mikey's going to be a pirate captain. He's got to get all the practice he can. Go on, you guys."

The two boys ran off, Mikey laughing triumphantly. Miss Enrile smiled after them, then turned to Karone.

"Thanks, that was a great idea," she said.

Karone blinked at her.

"The cannonball thing. It's so hard to get Mikey to play sports. He's actually a lot like I was; I hated sports. I used to have to pretend I was playing baseball in order to save a captive princess, or else I couldn't have standed it."

Karone smiled and nodded. She wished she could have replied with a humorous childhood story of her own, but she had a feeling this cheerful, petite lady with the bouncy little bob haircut might not have appreciated a detailed retelling of the time when Karone (then Astronema) was eight and she and Ecliptor had gotten the king of the planet Colonius Two to surrender, by threatening to kill his infant son.

There was a brief awkward silence, and Karone kept smiling, running her fingers up and down the spine of the folder.

"So, are you Rachel's mom?" Miss Enrile suddenly asked.

Karone frowned.

"I don't think so."

Miss Enrile laughed.

"Oh! I'm sorry! Rachel-- one of my students is sick at the nurse, waiting for her mom to come and get her. Meatloaf for lunch, you know how it is." Miss Enrile suddenly looked down the hall at the door. "I'm coming, you guys! Becka, keep that door shut!"

Karone took a step backward.

"I'm sorry, go on. I'm just on my way out."

Miss Enrile was clearly distracted by the kids at the front of the line, who were getting impatient and leaning against the door in their boredom. One of the boys was yelling something that "it must be a ghost" opening the door.

"Uh, excuse me," Miss Enrile said, jogging down the hall. "A ghost, huh? Kyle, get back in line."

"My shoe fell off!" Kyle whined.

Karone watched as Miss Enrile opened the door, and the kids practically flew outside. With one final sigh, she turned around and headed for the front door.

"That's one more down," she said as she put the folder in the overflowing garbage can outside the front door.


	2. Karrie

**DISCLAIMER: Power Rangers, Power Rangers in Space and Power Rangers Wild Force are property of Saban and Disney. Not me.**

She got off the bus in front of her small, one-bedroom apartment, and shook her head. It hadn't been two hours since she had left for her job interview, and she'd been naive enough to believe that she'd return with the promise of a new job as a teaching assistant at William L. Donovan Magnet that very afternoon.

"Unbelievable," she said to herself. "With all these rejections, I should be so jaded by now, and here, I still really thought I had a chance this time."

The apartment lawn badly needed mowing, and a broken bottle lay right in front of the door. An overweight man sat on the front stoop, fanning himself with a newspaper ad for a hardware store.

Karone lowered her eyes and tried to get into the building as quickly as she could to avoid getting into a conversation with the man, but the door was stuck.

"Door don't work," the overweight man grumbled.

"At all?" Karone asked incredulously.

"I ain't sittin' out here for my health," the man replied. Karone was suddenly aware of a six-pack of beer, a box of chocolate cream cakes, and a bag of Doritos next to him.

"No, you're sure not," she said. "Does the back door work?"

The man suddenly burst into a series of staccato guffaws. He clumsily reached behind him, and pulled a thick piece of metal out of the door frame. It had been jammed in to a crack in the wood, and it prevented the bottom hinge from working.

"I been doin' that to people all mornin'!" the man roared, laughing hysterically.

Karone managed a weak smile, and started to slip through the door. The man was screaming about "the look on your face!" and he took a large bite of his chocolate cake.

Karone got on the other side of the door, and suddenly threw it open with all the force she had. She heard a rewarding "smack" as the door slammed against the man's generous bulk. He choked on his cake and consequently started coughing uncontrollably and swearing in between coughs.

"Sorry, Mr. Murphy," Karone called to him in a sweet voice. "I've been doing that to people all morning!"

Mr. Murphy let out a string of expletives which questioned the legitimacy of Karone's mother's gender and her father's sexual preference.

"Mow the damn lawn already," Karone muttered. Her head was pounding.

Her apartment was on the third floor, and there was no elevator. Ordinarily, she didn't mind the effort of taking the stairs, but today, it seemed as if gravity was working against her, and it took her ten minutes to reach the third floor.

She pushed through the door to the hallway, and noticed a new piece of graffiti carved into the door. It spoke concisely of a young woman named "Shante"'s sexual prowess and affinity for fruit, and Karone raised her eyebrows in surprise.

"Who'd think to do that with a watermelon?" she whispered, and grimaced in imagined pain.

Upon opening the door, she was greeted with the sight of a badly groomed, dirty t-shirt and ripped jeans-clad young man. He was clearly a good deal younger than she was, and he was standing outside her door.

"Excuse me," she said, pushing through.

"Hey, hey, hey, yo, yo, yo, yo, hold up," the man drawled. He carried a distinct herbal odor, and his green eyes stared at the floor as he spoke to her. "You're Karrie, right?"

Karone looked at him irritably and let out a sharp breath. Only one other person in the galaxy ever referred to her as "Karrie", and that person that was her roommate, Joan.

"My name is Karone," she said shortly. "If you're looking for Joan, she's not here. Excuse me."

"Well, uh, I know she's not here. Because, um, like, I've been, like, knocking on the door for like, ten minutes. But, like, um, see, she kind of told me that if I came over and she wasn't home, like, as long as this Karrie person was around, she'd let me hang out and wait for Joan, like, inside."

Karone rolled her eyes. Joan hadn't said anything to her about any visitors. She wasn't surprised, as Joan rarely asked permission for favors, but she was still irritated.

"No, you can wait outside. Joan will be home soon."

"Um, like, okay. I don't know if Joan ever mentioned me, but I'm Matt. We're kind of, like, seeing each other."

"She's never mentioned you. You can wait outside." Karone shut the door in his face.

"Um, okay, because-"

Karone sighed exasperatedly, turned around, and suddenly let out a cry. Joan was standing right in front of her.

"You're home?!" Karone cried. Joan shook her head frantically and put her hand over Karone's mouth. She frantically gestured toward the bedroom, and ran in and jumped on the bed.

Karone gritted her teeth. If there was ever a time when she wasn't in the mood for Joan's antics, this was it. She reluctantly went into the bedroom that the two women reluctantly shared. The apartment was not meant to house two people, but both Karone and Joan had so little income that they had little choice but to live the way they did.

"Shut the door!" Joan hissed. She was lying on her stomach. "Don't stand in front of the window! We can't stand in front of the window! He might see us from outside!"

Karone shut the door.

"How can he see you from outside if he's standing in front of the door in the hall? He's been standing out there for ten minutes. Why did you say I'd let you wait inside? Don't you know how dangerous that is? I don't know him."

"Oh my god, thank god you didn't let him in!" Joan whispered. Her long, black hair streamed over the edge of the bed and she giggled. Karone noticed several empty bottles that once contained fruit flavored malt liquor all over the floor, and Joan was clearly a good ways into the bag. "That would have ruined everything."

"Well, I don't let strange people into my house. Who is he?"

"That's MATT. Remember, I told you? From Esposito's?"

Karone walked over to the closet that she and Joan shared, and she took off her black jacket.

"Esposito's, which is a... restaurant?"

Joan ignored her.

"Thank god you didn't ruin it. See, what I'm gonna do is, I'm gonna leave him wait outside until he's just getting ready to go home, and then right as he's getting ready to go, I'm gonna come out and be all like, 'Oh my god, where have you been, I've been waiting forever!'"

Karone began unbuttoning her dark navy blue blouse. She stared at Joan incredulously.

"Why?" she asked.

"We're always playing jokes like that! Like, didn't I tell you about that one time when... you're wearing a black bra, too?"

Karone looked down self-consciously, and pulled her shirt closed.

"Don't watch me get undressed."

"What? Honey, it's nothing I ain't seen before! Here," she sat up, forgetting her earlier insistance that no one stand in front of the window. Her shirt was tucked into her shorts, and she clumsily began untucking it. "You want to see mine? I'll show ya!"

Karone turned away and began buttoning her blouse back up.

Joan had gotten off the bed, nearly going through the window screen in the process. She staggered over to Karone and steadied herself against the closet door.

"What's the matter? We're roommates, aren't we? Ain't we roommates, Karrie?"

"You're drunk, Joan. Are you and Matt going out, or what?"

"I dunno. You think we should go out? You wanna come with us, Karrie? I think you better. I think you better come with us. It'll be good for you."

"No, Joan, you go ahead. I had a really, really bad day-" Karone started to turn toward Joan, but realized that Joan had somehow managed to get her shirt off on the way to the closet, and she snapped her eyes shut. "Joan, put your clothes back on!"

"What's the matter? Karrie, do you realize that you and me, we been roommates for six months now and you still won't get changed in front of me? Like, what are you afraid of? You afraid I'm gonna find out you're really a guy? Because that wouldn't exactly break our lease."

The knocking was steady and constant now, and Karone was losing patience.

"Joan, will you go and do something with him, for god's sake?"

"Let him wait it out," Joan said. She was holding her shirt in front of her, but she was only partially covered. "Hey, listen, Karrie, do you mind if I wear this tonight?"

Karone looked. Joan was gesturing at a short black dress that Karone had only worn a few times. It had been quite expensive, but she'd bought it during her first year on Earth, when she didn't understand the value of American dollars yet. It was quite outdated as far as fashion was concerned, and Karone was wary of Joan's intentions.

"Why do you want to wear that?" Karone asked.

"Because it's nice, and I like it," Joan slurred. "You don't mind. You don't never go nowhere."

"Why do you really want to wear it?"

"It's real easy to get off in a hurry."

"No. Wear something of your own."

Joan kept fingering the fabric and hovering around Karone.

"Joan, will you PLEASE! I just want to go to sleep. I had a horrible day."

"Have one of these," Joan giggled, holding up an empty bottle. "I was having a horrible day too. Not anymore, boy."

"You didn't leave any. And I don't drink, anyway."

"Well, there's your problem, right there. You don't never drink, and all you ever wear is black. Look at this. It's nothing but black. Black, black, black-"

She was rifling through Karone's hung-up clothing, and Karone turned away.

"I'm going to go and tell Matt you're here. You can deal with him."

"No! Karrie, don't do that! Come on! I'm makin' a real nice surprise for him."

"He's just going to be mad. And he has every reason to be. Come on, put something on and go answer the door. I can't listen to this banging all night."

Joan had already grown bored with nudity, and was taking a floaty pink summer dress out of her "half" of the closet, which was actually closer to two thirds of the closet.

"I wouldn't need to take this one off at all, I don't think. Hey, Karrie, that reminds me, I talked to Chris. He says you cancelled your date!"

Karone sat down on the bed and sighed. She took her hair out of its twist and shook it out. It had a coarse consistency, and she couldn't get her fingers through it.

Chris was one of Joan's coworkers, a twenty two year old former goth who still had plugs in his ears and still enjoyed wearing black, but who had a glaringly dull personality. Karone had protested when Joan had set them up on a date, claiming (while sober) that "you guys have so much in common! You both like black!", and she hadn't gotten much of a response either negative or positive when she'd called Chris and explained that she couldn't come.

"Yeah, I called him."

"Well, he was pissed!" Joan exclaimed.

"What? He didn't act angry."

"He was. He was pissed."

"Well, you knew I wasn't interested in him! Why did you make that date?"

"You ain't interested in nobody. When's the last time you had a date? Huh? It was sure as hell before you met me. I ain't never seen you go anywhere except on job interviews and out with that Cassie person."

"I don't go on dates," Karone muttered, lying back on the bed. "It's all wet here."

"What, the bed? I spilled my drink," Joan said.

"Which one?" Joan pulled the dress down over her head and smoothed down the skirt.

"How come you don't go out on no dates?" she asked.

"Because I don't want to. Your dress is on backwards."

Joan looked down.

"No, it ain't."

"Fine. I should make you change the sheets before you go. How am I going to sleep in this?"

"There ain't that much. Hey, did he stop knocking?"

Karone listened. She didn't hear anything.

"You better go catch him. He's probably going to leave."

Joan hissed an expletive and ran out to the front door. She still had her shorts on underneath the dress, and appearance-wise, she was in no condition to go out.

Of course, her date was a far cry from the Best Dressed list himself.

Karone took advantage of the momentary absence of Joan and opened the dresser that the two of them shared. The top two drawers belonged to Karone, and the other three, as well as nearly the entire floor, were reserved for Joan's wardrobe.

Karone pulled out a black tank top and a black and green spotted pair of pajama pants and ran into the bathroom to change. On her way, she saw Matt and Joan giggling in front of the door. Apparently Matt had appreciated the joke after all.

When she came out of the bathroom, Matt was sitting on the floor in front of the front door, with Joan in his lap. They were in the middle of a very serious make-out session, and Karone all at once felt a cold, sick feeling deep within her chest.

She watched them for a moment, and then slipped into the bedroom as quietly as she could. Her day had been bad before, but the sight of the two ravenous, intoxicated lovers gave her a disgusting, helpless feeling with aspects of jealousy, disgust and rage, but not enough of any of the three emotions to be identifiable as such.

Of course, Joan was right. Karone hadn't been on a date in the entire time the two had known each other. And, in actuality, Karone had not been on a "date" for nearly eight years.


End file.
